


this is acting

by exysexual



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Acting AU, Angst, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 16:38:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12561656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exysexual/pseuds/exysexual
Summary: Neil Josten is finding it difficult to bring himself to care about anything. Andrew Minyard isn't actively working to change this, but he manages it anyway.





	this is acting

**Author's Note:**

> Yes the title for this fic is from a Sia album, it was the first thing that popped into my head. This idea has been developing in my mind for ages and I finally sat down to write it, hope you enjoy the first chapter. 
> 
> Warnings for suicidal thoughts and mentions of past abuse.

It was Nathaniel Wesninski’s 21st birthday and Neil Josten was celebrating alone.

He rested against the balcony of his suite, 40 floors high, the cityscape of LA spread before him. It was a spectacular expanse of innumerable twinkling lights flickering in and out. Neil’s watch read 11:30pm and the street directly below him was vibrant with life. Laughter and shouts echoed off the walls, too far below to reach his ears, as youth stumbled out of the countless bars and nightclubs that ran along the strip, engaged in conversations and activities they were unlikely to recall when they woke up.

Neil was sober and too lost in his thoughts to appreciate the view before him. He gazed at the black sky above, devoid of stars and blanketed by a screen of pollution. The city lights below, he supposed, were compensation.

He was no doubt currently receiving countless birthday wishes from both friends and fans as he had been all day. His patience had only lasted until 9am when he had turned his phone completely off. He could anticipate the lecture he would receive from Allison, it was a speech he had heard many times over the last two years – “Neil, if you don’t keep your fucking phone on I can’t contact you and do my job and therefore you can’t do your job because your job is dependent on my job and my job is dependent on your job.”

After his father’s, and subsequently Riko’s, death a little over two years ago, Neil had for the first time in his life been free to pursue his career in the way he wanted. Since the age of ten he had been under Edgar Allen Entertainment, alongside Kevin Day, Riko Moriyama, Jean Moreau and countless others. His father had sold him to the Moriyama’s as both a model and a child actor. The memory of Tetsuji’s fingers running down the side of his unmarred cheek, his whiskey flavored breath far too close to his face, was permanently etched in to his memory. “Your pretty face is going to make me a fortune boy.” Sometimes he bolted awake at night, certain that he had felt hands roaming over his body.

Unconsciously Neil lifted a hand to his cheek, felt over the familiar raises and bumps of old wounds. Majority were courtesy of his father and his men; the Moriyama’s had been careful not to damage their property. If their company had somehow emerged from the scandal with his father unscathed, Neil would have been discarded as useless. They probably would have given him another year, so the death didn’t look too coincidental. Then there would have been a tragic car accident or a suicide.

The Moriyama’s as an empire were still strong and received 80% of Neil, Kevin and Jean’s earnings (which still left the three of them ridiculously wealthy), but Edgar Allen hadn’t survived the fallout of Neil’s scandal.

Once free from both his father and Edgar Allen, Nathaniel Wesninski had disappeared from the public eye for four months. In those months Neil had laid him to rest and hired Allison to help him start fresh as Neil Josten. She was officially his agent, but without her Neil would have never acted again, the experience having been tarnished by the Moriyama’s.

He had grown up surrounded by cameras, interviews and paparazzi; however, the intensity of the public’s interest in him once he returned to acting had still been a shock to the system. Before, he had constantly been in Kevin and Riko’s shadows, always number three; third best and third choice. Now, an entire two years and multiple movies later, Neil still had trouble even going grocery shopping without being recognized.

He was starting a new film next week and he had yet to read the script; Allison was going to kill him.

He remained on the balcony for a long time after that, watching the crowds below but not really seeing them, and only went back inside once the sun began its ascent. Neil had no intention of sleeping and threw himself onto a plush armchair, turning the tv on, which continued playing a shitty movie Allison had been watching a couple of nights earlier. Neil couldn’t be bothered to change it so he left it rolling, letting the background noise wash over him.

He reached for the coffee table where his phone lay lifeless and reluctantly turned it on. He scrolled through his messages, replying to a select few.

He hesitated over Kevin’s ‘Happy birthday Nathaniel’, a wave of anger rolling over him. Kevin was having a harder time adjusting to life without Riko than Neil and Jean. He still didn’t understand Neil’s decision to change his name or his refusal to get plastic surgery for his face. Kevin still couldn’t look at the burn on Neil’s left cheekbone; the burn that had replaced his tattoo. It was ugly and Neil knew this; he didn’t miss the pitying glances sent his way or the countless articles debating his injuries and the demise of his modelling career. Everyone assumed that he was upset that this aspect of his career was over. He had outshone both Kevin and Riko as a model and there had been nothing they could do about it. He was simply more popular and Tetsuji had earnt millions thanks to Neil and the public’s obsession with him. It was this that had caused Riko to come to Neil’s rooms one night and slash Neil’s right cheek open in blind envy. It wasn’t the first time Riko had abused Neil, but it was the first – and only – permanent mark he left. It had been only a week after this that Neil had been told he had a visitor and he was forced to face his father for the first time in eight years.

The new scar on Neil’s previously untarnished face had not gone unnoticed by the public who were devastated to hear the news that Neil was simply too distraught to continue modelling; a story fabricated by Edgar Allen to explain why his modelling contract had ended. The minute Tetsuji had seen his face he had demanded Neil to tell him what happened. He really hadn’t needed to; anyone with half a brain could see what had happened. Riko’s satisfied expression was giveaway enough. Neil had received the beating of his life in exchange for his refusal to answer and afterwards Tetsuji’s had ripped his contract in half right in front of him.

Word had reached his father and once Nathan heard that Neil’s contract had been cancelled, he had seen no reason to keep him alive. The rest was history Neil didn’t want to recall.

At least one good thing had come from his ruined face; he despised modelling. He had hated the styling and the shoots, the shows and the parading around. It had made him feel like even more of an object than he already did. Being forced to flaunt himself for desirous spectators and his strict diet had taken a new toll on his mental health that he didn’t even know was possible after it had already been irreversibly damaged prior to his contract with Edgar Allen.

He didn’t hear the furious knocks at his door as he stared blankly above him; slouched in his armchair. He didn’t hear the jostling of keys either, or the tell-tale click of Allison’s heels as she made her way across the marble tiles. He didn’t see her furious expression morph into concern as she found him, eyes glazed over and mouth slack as he relived old memories.

“Neil?” she coaxed gently, not daring to touch him. Eventually her persistent soft chanting of his name and affirmations of safety pulled him out of wherever his subconscious had taken him. He straightened up, blinking slowly at her before scooping his phone off the floor where it had slipped from his limp grip.

“When did you get here?” he asked.

“About ten minutes ago, I’m not sure how long you were out though,” answering Neil’s second unspoken question.

She grinned playfully and tapped his cheek with one perfectly manicured nail, “But it can’t have been for long, you haven’t started drooling yet.”

Neil batted her arm away half-heartedly and stood up, walking to the kitchen and getting out coffee and Allison’s favourite tea.

Once they each had a steaming mug in front of them Allison began to talk. “Neil, are you sure you’re okay to do this movie? You know I can get you out of it still.”

Neil started shaking his head before she was even finished, “No, I want to do it. I’ll be fine.”

Allison’s expression was disbelieving, “How many times have I heard that before?”

“I’m serious, it’ll be fine; I’ll start going over the script today.”

“You haven’t looked at the script!” Allison nearly knocked her mug over as she shot to her feet, before collapsing back into her seat and dropping her forehead onto the dining table they were sat at.

“What the fuck am I going to do with you,” she mumbled into her arms.

“A week is plenty of time,” Neil assured her, “for me,” he added as an afterthought. Training at Edgar Allen had been brutal and years of intense tutoring had given Neil perfect recall. It took him less than half the amount of time to memorize lines than most people. He had needed this skill while working as much as he had. He could see now that it had been unhealthy; but at the time it had seemed normal.

A flicker of concern crossed over Allison’s expression, gone so quickly it was barely noticeable, “If you say so Neil.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their drinks and watching the sun rise.

Allison was the first to speak again, “Now, let’s get to why I stopped by in the first place.” She pulled her red painted lips into a bright smile; a smile that Neil had come to associate with her wanting something from him. He was immediately wary.

“So,” she began enthusiastically, “There’s this party tonight -”

“No.” Neil cut her off, he had heard enough.

Allison scowled at him, “Let me fucking finish.”

Neil rolled his eyes and waited with a pointed expression.

“As I was saying,” she drawled, “There’s a party tonight, it’s for the cast of ‘The Foxes’ – that’s your new movie in case you didn’t know –” Neil poked out his tongue at her, she ignored this and continued, “It’s just a small thing, Renee’s hosting it. I’m going and I really think you should come along.”

Renee was Allison’s girlfriend and she was also an actress; she would be one of Neil’s co-stars in ‘The Foxes’. He had no idea what role she was playing.

He had never formed relationships with his co-stars before and didn’t plan on starting now, but he was finding it difficult to resist Allison’s pleading expression.

“Can I leave if I hate it?” Neil asked.

Allison narrowed her eyes at him, “Two hours and then you can go if you must,” she bargained.

“An hour and a half?” Neil countered.

Allison pursed her lips and drummed her nails against the wood of the table; considering this. “Fine,” she conceded, “I suppose it’s a miracle I’m getting you out at all.”

She finished off her tea in one last gulp, before getting up to put her mug in the dishwasher. As she headed back to Neil she grabbed her handbag off the kitchen counter, pulling her phone out as she walked. She began furiously typing and didn’t lift her head as she said, “I will be back later to help you get ready, hope you don’t mind if I bring my makeup; the lighting in your bathroom is better than mine.”

She finally looked up from her phone, put it back in her bag and swooped down to kiss him on the cheek; no doubt leaving a bright red stain. “Remember to eat something, if you haven’t sent me a picture of your breakfast in an hour I will send Abby over with pancakes.”

Neil rolled his eyes and nodded, “See you later.”

The slam of his door echoed through the capacious apartment as Allison left. Neil forced himself to get up and walk to the kitchen.

Once his toast had popped he spread a thin layer of avocado on it, took a photo and sent it to Allison. He nibbled at the corner of it, before wrinkling his nose and placing it back on his plate. He knew he needed to eat; it had been more than a day since his last meal.

He was getting better at knowing when he needed food; adjusting and moving away from his schedule at Edgar Allen. It had felt strange at first, eating when he felt like it and at all different times. Meal times didn’t change once while he was living at Edgar Allen. Underneath the company’s main office in LA was an underground maze that housed all of the ‘stars’. Neil could remember reading an article released about him, ‘Nathaniel Wesninski: A Star on the Rise.” He had laughed out loud; the deranged sound bouncing off the walls. He proceeded to rip the magazine in half; scanning his quarters with a manic grin as he surveyed the too small space, the intricate lock system on his door and the buzzer beside him that would alert him if he was needed. Riko had probably slipped the magazine under his door for a laugh. To apply the word ‘star’ to someone like him – to any of them – was ludicrous. He hadn’t really found it funny at all, but Neil had continued laughing until Jean (his roommate) had snapped at him to stop.

When Allison returned at six, he tried to convince her that: no, he hadn’t just sat at the kitchen bench doing nothing all day – but she called his bluff before he had even finished defending himself.

She ruffled his hair, “I’m going to get takeout, what do you feel like?”

Neil shrugged, “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Once Neil had swallowed down the last slice of pizza, Allison jumped up – grabbing her bag – and heading straight for the bathroom. Neil threw their napkins and the pizza box into the bin, before getting a start on the dishes; letting the dull routine of stacking the plates and glasses from the last few days wash over him in a calming sort of wave.

Allison finished getting ready in record time – for her – which was just under an hour. She emerged from the bathroom in a skin tight black dress, towering stilettos, freshly curled hair and newly painted lips. Neil had been wearing the same t-shirt and sweatpants for two days. He smelt slightly and his shirt was clinging to his skin; damp with sweat.

Allison wrinkled her nose, “Go shower, I’m going to pick something for you to wear.”

Neil stepped into his bedroom, which was still spotless from the last time Allison and Renee had been over and done a mass cleanup of his apartment. He had taken to crashing on the couch the past few nights, not having been able to carry himself to the bedroom. He left his clothes behind him in a trail as he strode into the bathroom.

He let out a small sigh of relief as the scalding water hit his back in harsh bullets. His head tilted back and the water ran over his face and into his eyes; but he didn’t mind. Allison’s music made its way into the bathroom and he didn’t want to think about how loud it must be in the living room. It was a good thing he had the top floor to himself or he probably would have been kicked out due to noise complaints a long time ago. Allison and Matt had mostly decorated Neil’s apartment entirely themselves. They hadn’t had a problem stealing Neil’s card and gifting him with enormous speakers, a plasma screen television and a karaoke machine that was only ever used when they were over – which was often.

Allison hadn’t forced Neil to socialize with any of her friends; but she had insisted to Neil that Renee, Matt and Dan were her family – more so than her biological parents anyway. And so, Neil had let her drag them over to his apartment and introduce him to them. They hadn’t asked any questions about his face and Neil had taken an immediate liking to Matt and Dan. His relationship with Renee was strange and had been almost non-existent the first year they had known each other. That was until Renee approached him, asking for a chance to explain herself to Neil. They had developed a mutual understanding built on traded stories of their pasts. He didn’t know if he liked who she was now, but he understood why she was this way and why her faith was so important to her; which was a large reason why Neil had initially distrusted her.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood under the spray; but by the time he turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist, his fingers were wrinkled and his skin red from the heat.

There was a small knock at the door and Allison’s voice chimed in, “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen, I’ve left the clothes on your bed.”

Allison respected his privacy, even though now the entire world knew about his scars – had seen pictures of his arms, his face and even his torso after one particular incident. She always knocked, never intruded and never pried. The same could be said for Renee, Dan and Matt; it felt strange to have friends that he trusted like this and he still wasn’t quite used to it.

Once he heard his bedroom door shut he exited the bathroom and pulled on the outfit Allison had prepared for him. A pair of tight, ripped blue jeans that he definitely hadn’t bought for himself and a long sleeved black shirt, paired with his favourite black denim jacket. He didn’t bother doing anything with his hair, he wasn’t looking to impress anyone here. At Edgar Allen, his curls had always been straightened, until the pull and heat of an iron through his hair became as familiar and consistent as the rest of his routine.

It was one of the habits he hadn’t been able to drop and it was rare that he went out with his natural hair. Maybe it was because the curls reminded him of his father – or maybe it was a different sort of coping mechanism. Whatever it was, tonight he couldn’t be bothered and he didn’t miss Allison’s smile of approval as he exited his room. She had constantly badgered him about how bad the constant heat was for his hair (which was hypocritical coming from her) and how his natural curls were so much nicer – but she had stopped once he provided a brief explanation.

She ruffled his damp curls as he laced up his boots then took his arm and led him out of the room; locking the door behind her. To outsiders it probably would have looked like Neil was leaving Allison’s apartment and not the other way around.

They took Allison’s car and Neil volunteered to drive; letting the concentration required distract him from thinking too hard about the evening of painful small talk and smiles that was no doubt in store for him.

As he pulled into Renee’s street Allison began to fidget and chew her lip nervously.

“What is it?” Neil asked, not really very interested in her response. It was probably relationship drama with Renee and he honestly couldn’t care less.

“It’s about Kevin,” Allison’s voice was small but Neil heard her as though she’d shouted.

He froze, it was only his quick reflexes and built in survival instincts that stopped them from swerving into a pole.

“What about him?’ his tone was even.

She ran a hand through her hair in exasperation, before twisting in her seat to face him; her expression pained. “He’s in the movie as well, he’s going to be here tonight.”

Neil was silent, he didn’t look at Allison. “And you didn’t think to tell me until now?”

There had been no emotion in his voice but Allison’s tone was pleading as she responded, “I assumed you had read the script and just didn’t want to talk about it!”

Neil took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting and familiar scent of Allison’s car. Kevin, Neil and Jean had gone their separate ways after Edgar Allen, not making any effort to contact or see each other. Underground, they hadn’t been friends, but they had been something. The three of them had looked out for each other – stitching up wounds, having late night conversations in hushed French where Riko couldn’t hear and essentially acting as a lifeline for one another – Neil wasn’t sure he would still be alive if it hadn’t been for them.

He had definitely thought about it; after grueling days, after being treated like a thing, after unwelcome hands roamed over his face, hair and torso. Neil had never been sexually abused at Edgar Allen, but hands had often lingered for too long while dressing him or positioning him for a pose.

He had managed to steal one of Riko’s knifes once, had traced it lightly over his wrists – not daring to break skin. He had been very close to losing it, to letting go of his last shred of resistance and sanity. Jean’s soft voice had interrupted his dangerous thoughts, reminding him why he couldn’t leave, “Nathaniel j’ai besoin de ton aide.” He had shoved the knife under his mattress and crossed the room to tend to Jean’s fresh wounds. He had it worse then Kevin and Neil; as a musician it wasn’t necessary for his skin to remain unmarred and he was a favourite toy of Riko’s – often Jean would return to their room late at night, his expression void and eyes dark. Neil would silently cross to his side of the room, help him out of his bloody clothes and pull out the first aid kit that Kevin had stolen for them. It became a sort of routine – at least once a fortnight Jean was called to Riko’s rooms. When Kevin could get away from Riko he would visit, bringing the two of them whatever extra supplies he could find: fresh shirts, water, bandages, fruit.

“Neil, we’re here,” Allison said, guilt evident in her tone. Neil parked behind a sleek black Maserati; there were cars littering the street and he could hear laughter and shouts filtering out of Renee’s house.

Neither of them made a move to get out.

“I have a list of the cast here on my phone,” Allison spoke softly, “Do you want to look at it?”

Neil didn’t say anything, but Allison extended her glossy phone to him anyway. He couldn’t handle any more surprises this evening, so Neil took the phone from her hand and scanned the list. His name was at the top, as one of the leads, Alex Fox. He raised his eyebrow when he saw who would be playing his onscreen brother; ‘Caleb Fox: Andrew and Aaron Minyard.”

The Minyards were probably the second most talked about actors in Hollywood after Neil and Kevin. Aaron Minyard had started out as a child star, following in his mother Tilda Minyard’s footsteps; there had been many speculations about Tilda forcing Aaron into the industry and questions raised about bruises that could be seen in paparazzi photos of him. Neil had even acted alongside him in a few movies as a kid; they hadn’t gotten much of a chance to know each other though as they had both been heavily monitored. When Aaron was fourteen he had discovered that he had a twin brother, Andrew; the two had been separated at birth, with Andrew growing up in foster homes. Tilda had made a public statement, saying that at the time she had been a struggling actress and single mother and hadn’t been able to support the both of them. Despite this statement she was brutally attacked by the media, even after she took Andrew back into her care. Two years later she died in a car accident; Andrew had been in the car too but had escaped with barely any injuries. The twins always acted in the same films, but never alongside each other; they would both play the same role and for most people it was impossible to tell which twin had done which scene. They rarely did interviews and if they did Aaron did the most talking. They were almost as mysterious and exciting to the public as Neil and Kevin were.

He recognized most of the other names, but dismissed them as unimportant. The only line that held his attention was ‘Clyde Black: Kevin Day’. The media was going to explode once this got out. Neil Josten, Kevin Day and the Minyards all in one movie. The producers must be shitting themselves in excitement.

He gave Allison back her phone, before unbuckling his seatbelt. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“What do you mean ‘it doesn’t matter’?” Allison sounded incredulous.

“I mean, _it doesn’t matter,_ ” Neil emphasized. “I’ll be fine.”

Allison pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything. Neil swung open his door, hauling himself out of the car and letting it slam shut behind him. He began walking up the path, not checking if Allison was following. He would keep his promise and stay an hour and a half, but not a fucking second more. He would be seeing enough of these people in the months to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Allison is my queen


End file.
